


A Tricky Situation

by Books_Tea_Fandoms



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Freewriting, Joanlock - Freeform, Joanlock Fluff, i guess, wooo injury sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9112477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Books_Tea_Fandoms/pseuds/Books_Tea_Fandoms
Summary: There's someone dangerous in the Brownstone, and Sherlock and Joan are stuck there, with their options running out...This is a bit of freewriting- I didn't know what I was writing when I started off, but it turned into a ficlet (basically I had the urge to write, but I didn't know what). Also I didn't proof read it, so sorry for all of the mistakes...





	

"Sherlock?! What the hell is this?" Joan came out of the shower, holding some kind of seaweed at arm's length. Instead of a reply, she felt herself being dragged by the shoulders backwards and up against the wall. She came very close to kicking her attacker (who was clearly a man) where it hurt, but she restrained herself when she realised it was Sherlock himself. At some point in the second that this had all happened, she'd dropped the seaweed, and it was lying on the floor at her feet. She nudged it away for a bit, still confused (but not uncomfortable) about why Sherlock was holding her so close.  
"Joan," He paused, leaning closer to her ear. "There's someone in the house."  
"OK, but why is this a problem? It's never been a problem before."  
"Ah. Well. I may have accidentally invited one of the world's best for-hire assassins over the threshold, and he's not having a good day."  
"What did you do?"  
"It wasn't entirely my fault. Well, it was partly my fault."  
"What did you do?" She repeated.  
"I got someone out of a sticky situation that would have got them shot in the head, Watson, and our friend downstairs was given the task of shooting them at a very high price. They now don't have their money, and I might be shot."  
"Why haven't you been shot yet?"  
"I'm not entirely sure. I think because he's not being paid for it."  
"Sherlock, what are you going to do?"  
"I've texted Marcus. He's on his way along with a SWAT team."  
"How are you going to solve this now?"  
"Come downstairs with me."  
"What?!" Her voice rose above a whisper.  
"Shh!"  
"Why?" She whispered back.  
"Because it's unlikely he's going to shoot either of us, and consider the odds halved if there are two of us there."  
"Fine. But let me get dressed first." Sherlock realised that he was holding Joan's bare shoulders, and promptly removed them. She gave him a look.  
"What?"  
"Nothing. Just- hide out in the bathroom or something for the moment." He obeyed, and she started to change.  
She was interrupted, however, by the somewhat familiar feeling of a silencer to her temple. Only wearing jeans and a bra, she stood up slowly, and put her hands behind her head.  
"If you're gonna kill me, can you at least let me put my shirt on first?" The man gave a dry, humourless laugh.  
"You're not going to be killed."  
"Why not?"  
"It's the other one I'm after."  
"The other one?" Joan knew well enough not to use Sherlock's name out loud, just in case the killer didn't know this, but those chances were pretty slim, since he had found their house.  
"Sherlock Holmes. Where is he?" Joan remained silent. "Where is he?! I'll shoot you!"  
"But you just said-" Joan felt increased pressure on her temple. She realised that now was not the time to verbally deconstruct an argument. She pointed quietly at the bathroom door.  
"Holmes! Get out now or she gets it!" Joan could hear the door of the bathroom slam open and Sherlock come running. His face changed as soon as he saw just how very real this threat was.  
"If you're going to shoot anyone, shoot me." He looked defiantly at the man, hands behind his back and looking down his nose.  
"Where's the fun in that if I want to get my revenge? Your girlfriend's life is worth less than the ten million I was promised."  
"I think you'll find that her worth is much higher than that." Joan, despite the circumstances, couldn't help but smile as she remembered the Case of the Imperial Jade Seal, and how much she was offered for it.  
"Doesn't matter. She'll be dead before you know it if you don't give me the money I lost because of you."  
"Shouldn't you be asking your employer?" Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. He saw Joan flinch as the man put a hand on her chin, turning her head towards his. He leaned in towards her, sneering.  
"I think perhaps," He leaned in a little further, still addressing Sherlock but practically nose to nose with Joan. "I think perhaps it's too late for that." Joan gritted her teeth, trying not to show the fear for her life.  
"You have no right to touch her." Something about the tonality of Sherlock's voice had changed, and even the contract killer, who seemed to be showing no remorse, stepped back a little from Joan. She turned her head to look at Sherlock, as did the killer, whose gun was still boring into Joan's temple. She guessed at what he was trying to do here: he was playing for time in the way that only Sherlock Holmes could.  
"I have every right to touch her." He growled back. Joan could see the slight falter in his countenance as he realised that he was slowly running out of options. She, too, was giving up hope slowly, which was extraordinarily unlike her. However, they were stuck in their home with one of the world's deadliest killers and there seemed to be no way out of this.  
The gun fired.  
She fell to the floor.  
However, she was completely uninjured. Her brain took a moment to register the shock. The gun was on the floor, at about arm's length. There was some shouting, and her brain gradually began to piece together what was going on. Sherlock had gone straight for the other man, the gun had fired (there was now a rather severe-looking bullet hole in the wall), and they were now fighting hand to hand. Joan knew, despite all hope, that Sherlock was not going to win, at least not by himself. She rolled over, grabbing the gun as she did so, and trained it straight on the pair of them, who were tangled up in a fistfight.  
"Both of you STOP!" She yelled. They kept fighting. "I've got the gun! Stop fighting!" She didn't really know what to say in a situation like this, and her words ended up sounding far weaker than she had wished. Sherlock noticed the gun first, and stopped abruptly, staring at Joan. The other man noticed this, and, surprised, he looked where Sherlock was looking. Seeing the gun, he stopped as well. Joan pursed her lips.  
Just then, a rather loud crashing noise was heard downstairs, and the SWAT team came in, followed by Marcus and Gregson. The man was apprehended, and Joan handed the gun to Marcus.  
"Hey, Joan, I think you might want to cover up." Instantly aware of her state of undress, she picked up her cardigan (which was the closest wearable item to her) and quickly wrapped herself up in it. Still a little dazed, she hardly noticed Gregson walk over to her.  
"Joan." He addressed her in his usual, quiet voice.  
"Yeah?"  
"Sherlock needs medical attention. Do we need to take him to a hospital or can you-?"  
"I'll do it, don't worry. How severe?"  
"Just some bruises and stuff. Nothing needs stitches or anything."  
"Yeah, I can do it here." He turned to leave, but changed his mind.  
"And Joan?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Are you OK?"  
"I'm- fine." She said, nodding.  
After everyone had left, and it was just the two of them, Joan allowed herself to breath a sigh of relief. Her mind instantly turned to Sherlock, who was injured. He was lying on his back on the floor, with his knees up, breathing slowly.  
"Sher-"  
"Before you say anything, Joan, the captain fiercely over-exaggerated. I'm fine." Joan looked over to her partner.  
"You're kidding."  
"No." He heaved himself up. "I'm fine. I can handle myself."  
"Sherlock, your nose is broken." He gingerly put a hand to his nose.  
"Oh." He replied quietly. "So it is."  
"Come on, let's go to the kitchen. I'll fix it." He went ahead of her, limping slightly. She got the medical supplies from the cabinet in the bathroom, and went downstairs.  
She found him sitting at the kitchen table, chin resting on his hands. He had a bottle of whiskey next to him.  
"I have antiseptic."  
"Oh that? That's not for cuts. That's for me." He uncapped it, took a swig, and offered the bottle to Joan.  
"I'll pass."  
"Sure?" She reconsidered it.  
"Fine." She took a large gulp, and sighed. She delicately placed her fingertips on his broken nose.  
"Whenever you're ready." He looked her straight in the eye, pursing his lips.  
"What compelled you to fight, anyway?"  
"There was no other option."  
"But you knew that the SWAT team was coming, and he wasn't actually going to shoot me."  
"There was no other option." She chose to re-set his nose right then. Sherlock emitted a very loud cry of pain. "That's for lying."  
"Fine. I couldn't stand to see you stuck with a gun to your head, and I couldn't stand to see you so terrified." She placed a strip over his nose, and starting cleaning a cut on his forehead, followed by his split lip.  
"Have you got cuts anywhere else?"  
"No. Do you have an ice pack? I think I'm going to get a black eye." She stopped what she was doing and got one out of the freezer. "Thanks."  
"I think you need to take an ice bath. For the rest of the bruises on your body. There's not much else I can do at this point."  
"Thank you for all you've done."  
"It's nothing, really." Joan stood up, and went over to the fridge, to determine how many ice cubes she could get from the fridge, and subsequently concluding that she would need to go out and buy bags of it. She turned around, to find Sherlock standing close to her. In a surprise move, he embraced her, and she hugged him back. He leaned down, and his cheek brushed hers. Her lips twitched, and she knew he felt that from the smile that she felt.  
"Joan?" He asked quietly.  
"Yeah?"  
"Thank you for everything you've done, and- I'm really glad you're safe."  
"I'm glad you are too." She kissed his cheek softly, and he smiled, despite all of the injuries.


End file.
